


Stakeout

by hellpenguin



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellpenguin/pseuds/hellpenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John works at the Indie record store across the street from Rodney's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Across the street from Rodney's apartment building is _Atlantis_, the local independent record store.

When Rodney's not working, he watches the stereotypical 'hipsters' go in and out. They look like clones, he thinks with disdain. All with shaggy unwashed hair and ratty clothes in multitudes of colors. Buying their music from bands with ridiculous names, like the Puddlejumpers and the Wraith, bands who play instruments made from rubber bands and shoestrings. He knows their type.

They're all liberal arts majors. And Philosophy students. Half of them will end up going into Greenpeace and organizing rallies that block up city streets so hardworking _brilliant_ people like Rodney are stuck in traffic instead of spending their valuable time working towards Nobel prizes and/or passing classes.

One day, Rodney's taking a break from his Physics exam studying to make coffee, and he notices a large gaggle of hipster girls herding themselves into _Atlantis_. The angle's not that good, so he can't get a good look at why. Ten minutes later they emerge, giggling and waving goodbye at someone in the store.

He vaguely sees the hand waving back through the window before it's gone. He looks back at his huge stack of essays and books, at forty-page research papers due within twenty-four hours. He looks back out the window, where a second group of giggling girls (and some boys, this time, their pants too tight and their hair too long) are entering _Atlantis_.

He looks at his brewing coffee. _Ten minutes_, he thinks, _and then I'll come back_.

As he exits the building, he makes a snap-quick decision to sit down surreptitiously at the cafe next door. The angle's better, and plus he doesn't want to go in that store. What if someone sees the great and studious future Dr. Rodney McKay enter a place like that? His reputation would be tarnished for the rest of the semester.

He sits down at a little table within spying distance and waits. The waitress appears after two minutes.

"Good afternoon, sir, my name is Teyla. How may I help you?"

"I'll have a triple espresso and a croissant. And! Under no circumstances will you allow a slice of lemon to come within two feet of my plate or my beverage or I will have you fired, do you understand?" The girl doesn't even flinch. She smiles a smile that borders polite and sarcastic, jots down his order, and leaves. Rodney harrumphes and goes back to spying.

The most recent group of hipsters are leaving _Atlantis_ now, holding bags of freshly-bought CDs from bands not even played on the radio and blowing kisses back at someone inside the store. Rodney squints.

There's a guy, most likely college-age, inside. He waves his hand back at the group and turns away from the window.

"Your espresso, sir," a voice on Rodney's right jolts him back. Teyla extends the little cup and saucer to him.

"Triple, right?"

"Yes. Your croissant is on its way. Is there anything else I can help you with?" She tilts her head to the side as if expecting him to make another demand. _To hell with it_.

"Uh, yes. A question- have you ever been in there? In _Atlantis_," he sneers.

"Why do you ask?" Her expression turns guarded.

"No, no reason. Have you?"

"On occasion," she allows.

"Ah. Is there," he fumbles, his eyes drifting back to the store, where a couple girls are leaving, grinning, "Do you know why girls keep going in? I mean, other than for the music?"

Teyla's mouth twitches. "I believe it is because of their newest employee." She looks across the street.

"And, uh, who is that?" He sips his espresso.

"My good friend, John. Young girls seem to find him very attractive. And some boys, too."

Rodney inhales espresso and starts coughing.

"Are you all right? Would you like me to bring you a glass of water? No lemon," she adds with a small smile.

"No!" Rodney waves weakly, gasping, "No, I'm- I'm all right. How about my- my croissant?" Teyla nods and sweeps away.

When Rodney finally is able to breathe clearly, he looks up to see a guy leaving _Atlantis_. He's tall and lean, dressed in all black. His hair looks like he fell asleep reading (or listening to music, unfortunately). He's also devastatingly handsome. _Ah,_ Rodney muses, _John_.

It takes him a second to realize John is headed his way. He buries his face in his tiny espresso cup.

"Your croissant, sorry about the wait," Teyla sets down his plate in front of him just as John nears. She looks up. "John! On your break?"

He scrubs a hand through his hair and smiles, "Yeah. Kinda needed one. If I hear one more girl call me 'Johnny', I'm gonna shoot someone." To Rodney's horror, he sits down at the adjacent table.

"Would you like your usual?" Teyla turns from Rodney and takes out her order pad.

"Yeah. Thanks. I have fifteen minutes until Elizabeth comes looking for me." He sprawls back in the tiny cafe chair. Teyla leaves. John looks up and his eyes meet Rodney's before Rodney looks away quickly. He starts to tear his croissant apart, and feels his cheeks warm up slightly.

He senses John about to say something so he shoves an unbuttered chunk of croissant in his mouth and looks away. _Damn, should have brought a newspaper. Or a book. Anything._

Teyla returns at that instant with a mug for John. Her eyes catch Rodney's and he sees a slight sparkle in them.

"Would you like me to get you anything for your croissant, sir? Butter? Jam?" Teyla sets down John's mug and addresses Rodney. John looks at him.

"No, no, I'm fine. Well. Butter. And the bill. Thank- thank you," he blushes and adds because John is watching, and goes back to fiddling with his croissant and sipping his espresso. Teyla nods and leaves but Rodney can still see John looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Rodney can't help it and looks up, meets John's eyes. His expression is unreadable. He lifts the corner of his mouth in the kind of smile you'd give some stranger on the street you possibly recognize.

Not like John'd recognize Rodney or anything. It's not like they'd share the same classes. John probably takes Sociology and Football. And Art.

Teyla returns with the butter and his bill and turns back to John.

"Your break is almost up. Will Elizabeth be angry?"

"Nah, she's pretty cool. She just likes that I bring in more traffic than Sumner ever did. He wasn't very likable, apparently." He drains the rest of his mug and stands up. "Thanks for the coffee. Gotta run. We still on for the gym tonight?"

"Yes. Is Ronon coming?"

"Yeah. His band's not playing until Saturday."

"Then I will see you both there." John leans in and half-hugs her, their foreheads pressing together lightly for a second. And then he's moving back across the street, a regal-looking woman watching him from behind the storefront window of _Atlantis_.

"Do you agree?"

Rodney whips his head back towards Teyla, who is leaning against John's vacated table and watching Rodney watch John.

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you not also think he is attractive?" There's no judgment in her tone or her face. Rodney glances at John's retreating back and then back at Teyla.

"Um." He swallows the rest of his espresso instead of answering and slaps a twenty on the table. "I've got to go, I have a paper due tomorrow." He stands hurriedly and glances at Teyla. She's smirking. "Keep the change."

And he walks back to the building, leaving behind his uneaten croissant in a pool of crumbs.


	2. One day, John talks to Rodney.

As the days pass, Rodney takes to doing his work at the kitchen table, where he has an unobstructed view of _Atlantis_, and, therefore, of John.

In a week, Rodney makes the following observations:

1)John always wears black.  
2)His hair is like that all the time.  
3)He spends his breaks at the cafe where Teyla works.  
4)He's really too pretty for retail.

He can't tell if John likes the attention he gets from boys as much as he does the attention from girls. Not that Rodney's stalking him or anything.

In a week, Rodney has spent three days at the cafe, far more than his budget allows. Sometimes he makes sure to do so after John's break. Sometimes he does it right before but brings a book or his homework. Never has John tried to engage him in conversation. Teyla's tried.

"Sir? Sir? Excuse me, sir?" Teyla's voice cuts through his concentration. He looks up impatiently from his most recent dissertation brainstorm. It's late in the evening and he's having to squint to see his paper underneath the dim streetlights.

"Hm? Yes? What is it?"

"Are you finished with your espresso?"

"Yes, yes. Thank you," he turns back to his paper. He's vaguely conscious of Teyla's continued presence. "Was there something else?" He looks back up.

"Well, you are almost a regular now and I have yet to learn your name. And 'sir' is hardly effective in capturing your attention." She's all smiles.

"Oh," Rodney grunts, surprised, "It's Rodney."

"Rodney," Teyla repeats slowly. He nods warily and she takes his cup and leaves. He slowly turns back to his paper.

"Rodney, eh?" Rodney gets whiplash, he looks up so quick. John leans against Rodney's apartment building corner, arms crossed, hips cocked.

Rodney doesn't say anything. He doesn't trust himself to properly form words yet.

John tilts his head a little, as if waiting for something.

"Um, yes?" Rodney manages.

John pushes off from the building and takes a few lazy steps towards Rodney.

"I'm John. You come here a lot?" He shoves his hands in his pockets. Rodney's brain is suddenly thrown into overdrive: _Oh my God, was that a pick-up line?_

"Only. Only recently, I live," Rodney gestures the the building on his left, "there. You?" _Oh God, stupid question. Stupid Stupid Stupid. Of course he does, he's friends with Teyla._

"Yeah," is all he says. "How come I've never seen you at Atlantis?" _Because I hate that music_.

"It doesn't carry the type of music I like." He manages to say politely. _It carries crap_.

"Are you sure? We have some pretty great stuff. I'm sure there's something you'd like."

Rodney opens his mouth to say "I doubt it," but is interrupted by Teyla's arrival.

"John, you're early. I'm almost finished. Rodney, is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, I'm good. Just the bill." She nods and rushes off.

There's a bit of awkward silence. Rodney's eyes drift back to his paper.

"Well, swing by the store sometime and I'll help you find some music you like." John jerks his head towards Atlantis.

"Thanks, but highly unlikely," Rodney mutters. John sort of shrugs.

"I appreciate a good challenge," he smirks, his eyes dark. Rodney's heart jumps in his chest.

Teyla returns and drops off the bill. "Rodney? My shift is over for the night. Laura,"she gestures to the dirty blonde with the sarcastic smile at the counter inside, "will take care of your bill for you. Have a good night, Rodney." Teyla turns towards John.

"What about your tip?" Rodney fumbles for his wallet. "I've been here for at least four hours. Let me just-"

"It is not necessary."

"But you've been great service. It's no trouble at all, here-"

"Rodney." He closes his mouth instantly. "If you must, repay me by visiting Atlantis. You can...buy me a gift card." She smiles. Rodney's eyes widen, flickering to John's.

"A gift card?"

"Or an EP. You can get a good EP for about five bucks," John adds. "Maybe you'll find something you like while you're there."

"John, it's almost seven, we'll miss opening act. Good night Rodney."

"Good night, Teyla. John." Rodney swallows around his name. John smiles and he and Teyla leave.

Rodney fishes five dollars out of his wallet and picks up his bill, goes inside to pay.

The blond at the counter looks at him knowingly. He has an immediate distaste for her. He hands her the bill and his money.

"That John, eh?" She muses, mouth twisted in a wicked smile. "Too pretty, huh?" She hands him his change. He grabs it from her hands and sneers.

"Shut up." He goes home.


	3. Stakeout

Rodney's quite sure there's nothing in Atlantis that will appeal to him, other than John, obviously. He's heard his fair share of that 'indie' music through the university radio and playing out of fellow students' cars. They all play banjos or are twelve years old or both. And they have terrible music.

So why he's bothering going to Atlantis at all eludes him.

He regrets every step he makes in the direction of the street. He glances in all directions, on the lookout for his peers (if Radek saw him go in here, he would never live it down). He gets closer to the glass doors. _Last chance to just keep on walking_. He opens the door and enters.

John's bent over an aisle of CDs. When the door opens, a bell chimes, and he looks up, face brightening instantly as he recognizes Rodney.

"Rodney, you came," he puts the case back in its section and walks over. "Ready to find the diamond in the rough?"

"If by diamond you mean cubic zirconia and if by rough you mean Siberia," Rodney says, eyes glancing around. He sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Aw, don't be like that. I'm sure I can help you find something that catches your eye," John starts walking towards the first aisle. Rodney watches him walk, blushing.

"Where are your groupies today? I didn't see any twelve-year-olds drooling at the front window," Rodney says meanly.

John ducks his head and makes a face, "I know, thank God. I just don't get it."

"Teyla says it's because they find you attractive," Rodney says and immediately bites his tongue afterwards. John spins to look at him, raises an eyebrow.

"Really? She said that? Man, I just never see it coming." He runs a hand through his perpetually-messy hair and glances at the window. "Hey, turn the sign over. We'll pretend we're closed."

"Really? But won't Elizabeth- won't your boss be mad? That you're turning away business?" Now it's Rodney's turn to look surprised. John smiles almost bashfully.

"Well, yeah, probably. But _you're_ business, right?"

"Sort of-"

"So you count. I'm not turning you away."

"That's only if you can find something good!" Rodney points a finger at him to drive home the point. John just smiles at his furiously-waving finger.

"I'm quite confident I'll be able to. And then you can buy every album I make you fall in love with and I'll be the best salesman of the day."

"_If_, John, _if_ you can make me fall in love with—anything." Rodney goes back to the door and flips the sign to Closed. When he turns back, John's looking at him oddly. "What?"

"Nothing. Let's get started."

Twenty minutes later and Rodney's silently holding a small stack of CDs. He _would_ be talking a constant stream of "shut up shut up shut up" but John's so darn pleased with himself at actually making Rodney like Independent bands he's _glowing_ and Rodney's three minutes from just pushing John against the Folk section and blowing him.

"Did I say I told you so? Because, really, I did. I said, 'Rodney I bet I can make you like an independent band' and did I? I did, it's true." John's almost bouncing.

Two minutes and counting.

Rodney tries to focus. He's holding not one, but four different albums. He's got the Luminescent Orchestrii because his love of classical symphonies extends into small orchestral ensembles. He's got Of Montreal because their tunes have an orderly feel to them. He's got a band called Science For Girls because he's infinitely curious.

John's bent over the C-D section, long fingers flicking through the different cellophane-wrapped albums, muttering to himself, "The Cat Empire? No, too folksy. Coltrane Motion? No, no, no. The Cotton Jones Basket Ride's too quirky. Hmm, Datarock." His neck is a bit sweaty, his black t-shirt a bit tight, hugging the curve of his spine like art.

Not that Rodney _gets_ art. But he appreciates it, oh yes.

He traces the outline of John's body with his eyes. His pants are a little loose. His ass is a little flat. His shirt rides up a bit, a slice of John's skin just aching for Rodney's hand. He wants to slip his fingers into John's waistband, slide his hand around his side, under his shirt--

That's when he realizes John's no longer mumbling anything and is looking over his shoulder at Rodney. At Rodney staring at John's ass. At a blushing Rodney imagining himself doing terribly wicked things to John. Rodney freezes, his eyes widening. He licks his lips nervously.

John turns and leans against the CDs, crosses his arms across his chest. He cocks his head. His expression is calculating. He doesn't say anything.

"So, um, I have a paper due. Tomorrow. Well, technically next week, but it's a big one so I should go get started. I'll just leave these here. Can I put them on hold? On second thought, never mind, forget about them. Sorry to not help you be the best salesperson or anything, but that paper. Also I have to do the laundry. And call my sister. And get groceries. So I'd better go, lots to do. And stuff. I'll just—put these here," Rodney averts his eyes, gesturing wildly with his free hand, and sets the stack of CDs on the counter. He doesn't turn back around.

He's afraid of what he'll find in John's face.

His hand is on the door handle when John finally speaks.

"Rodney." His voice gives nothing away. Rodney half-turns back to him and waits.

"Um, yeah? Yes?"

He expects _ "Don't come 'round here no more," _ or _ "Don't talk to me ever again" _ or even just _"Goodbye"_. He holds his breath.

"Three-day customer hold." _Oh. Oh?_.

Rodney risks a glance over his shoulder. John's still leaning there, hands supporting his weight on the shelf. A ghost of a smile.

"Yeah?" Rodney's voice is a little breathless. He's forgotten to breathe.

"Three days." Is all John says. Rodney nods jerkily and leaves.

When he gets back to his apartment, he strips down and masturbates to John's dark eyes, the sound of music surrounding everything.


End file.
